Into the Ashes
by Tippy.LaRoux
Summary: When he couldn’t hold on to the person he planned to spend the rest of his life with, Draco Malfoy spends the night reflecting on how things went so completely wrong.
1. chapter 1

**Into the Ashes**

 **Written for QLFC, Round One**

 **Stats: Falmouth Falcons - Chaser Three**

 **Main Prompt : Write a theme you've never written before. PTSD**

 **Optional Prompts:**  
 **4 - (word) divorce**  
 **7 - (song) Me Too - Meghan Trainor**  
 **13 - (word) corporation**

 **Herbology - Task 1: Write about someone struggling with a change in their life**

 **Thank you to Amber and Sophie for the beta help. And to Lucy for helping along the way. Caw, caw**

~o0o~

Four years of marriage were reduced to a piece of parchment no longer than a First Year Charms essay. The unbinding ceremony had taken place that afternoon, the wards had been reset, and the last piece of parchment was signed and filed with the Ministry. It was official; Marcus James Flint and Draco Lucius Malfoy were divorced.

Walking into his study, Draco let out the scream he had been holding in since the Ministry Official told him to have a great day. Had the incompetent witch even looked at the document he was filing? "Have a great day? Have. A. Great. Day?!" Draco growled at no one in particular; each word was punctuated by tearing at a closure on his emerald robes, cursing the last fastener off when it would not cooperate. His hands were shaking—he couldn't get the cufflinks off fast enough, nearly tearing the cuffs off his shirt entirely.

He paced the room like a caged tiger. The anger was morphing into panic—he couldn't breathe. The tie, that took him forty-five minutes to pick out this morning, felt as though it had transfigured into a boa constrictor that was steadily choking him. Tearing at it, Draco's wild eyes combed the room looking for something, anything to distract himself.

Glancing over at the large mahogany desk, his gaze froze on a photo cut out from _Witch Weekly_ a lifetime ago. He stalked over to the desk to pick up the silver framed picture from the night he saw Marcus for the first time since Hogwarts. Sorrow flooded in, drowning the panic, as he looked longingly at the moment captured by some voyeur all those years ago. The pair were standing in the middle of the dance floor. Both were looking only at each other amid a sea of people, lights flashing to the beat of a song that didn't matter. That indescribable instant before a first kiss. The one that was supposed to be his _last_ first kiss.

~o0o~

 _Draco scanned the club for a familiar face in the crowd at Pendulum; anxiety ratcheting up with each strangers face. He'd much rather be sitting home alone in his study with a good book and a glass of Firewhiskey. Unfortunately, a group of colleagues from Malfoy Corporation decided to meet up here after work. They'd been working inhumane hours to finish a proposal for MACUSA and had been in desperate need to blow off some steam._

 _Weaving through the crowd, searching for respite in the sea of bodies pressed in on him, Draco reached a twenty-foot long wooden sanctuary. Catching the eye of a leggy brunette slinging drinks, he wasted no time ordering his old standby. "Black Label Ogden's Old, neat. Two." He tipped the first back, draining it in two large gulps. Sipping the second as the comforting burn of tension slowly left his body. This elixir of life had been his salvation since sixth year; the feeling of a warm hug from an old friend allowing him to take his first easy breath of the night._

 _Leaning back on the bar, his eyes were drawn to the door and everything else faded away. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a roguish smile. He wasn't the only person looking; every eye in the club was on the hulking man. Recognizing him instantly Draco couldn't help the small smile crossing his face as he remembered the happiest days he spent at Hogwarts. Marcus Flint headed directly up to the VIP balcony, walking with a swagger born from confidence that radiated off him in waves. The warm brown skin from spending summer days on the quidditch pitch glowed under the pulsing lights of the club. Drawn to the perfect male specimen like a magnet, Draco followed him up the stairs, coworkers completely forgotten._

 _Before he second-guessed his intentions Draco called out to the wizard he hadn't seen since third year at Hogwarts. "Marcus?"_

 _A dark gaze searching out the voice he recognized, and his eyes brightened at the lanky blonde from his past._

 _"Oi, Malfoy? What's up, man?"_

 _The conversation flowed effortlessly right from the beginning, and it was more like catching up with an old friend, than it was truly meeting someone for the first time. The two didn't run in the same circles now, but the tapestry of their childhood had been woven with the same dark threads which gave them plenty of fodder for conversation._

 _"So, you started playing for the Polish team right out of Hogwarts?" Sitting at a small table overlooking the dance floor, they leaned into each other to be heard over the din. The older wizard's eyes lit up when the conversation turns to quidditch, and to him._

 _"Yeah, the Grodzisk Goblins. I started as a reserve, but their Chaser caught a Bludger to the cranium, and I was called up to take over a more permanent role. I was traded to the Falcons just last year when their Chaser decided to hang up her robes and stay home with her new baby. I'm not gonna lie, it's a little weird to be back, you know, after all the Dark Lord stuff went down."_

 _Draco had never heard the Second Wizarding War referred to as "stuff". It was so far beyond that. The things they were all forced to do in order to stay alive—Draco still had nightmares about those years. Flint didn't seem to understand just how bleak it was during his reprieve in Poland. Draco changed the subject to something a little lighter and ordered another round of Firewhiskey. Raising his glass in the air, they toasted to the night._

 _Liquid courage coursing through his body, Draco grabbed Marcus's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. The song was not anything that he recognized, but the beat was one he could move to, and he intended to move to it along with Marcus._

~o0o~

Fighting back tears that burned the back of his eyelids, Draco curled his fingers around the picture frame with a grip so tight the glass shattered. Startled back to the present, he tossed the frame back on his desk and noticed his clothing for the first time. The shredded robe hanging from slumped shoulders, the tie Marcus gave him on their second anniversary hanging from his neck, the ruined shirt, were unceremoniously stripped off and thrown into the fireplace. Standing in just his trousers and undershirt, Draco pointed his wand, muttered a low " _Incendio_ " and watched as the flames licked greedily at the offending clothing until nothing but ashes remained.

His hands were trembling, and heart was pounding. He felt a cold wave rush through his body, the metallic taste of panic was in his mouth. Sitting down on the worn leather sofa he hung his head in his hands, hoping to slow down the latest attack from sinking him completely. He took his time and felt each finger as it pressed on his scalp. Then he focused on breathing. Inhale- one, two, three -hold- one, two, three -exhale- one, two, three. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

~o0o~

 _The entire Quidditch team was at the manor after their final match that season. Athletes of all shapes and sizes spread throughout the house, which made the vast manor feel more like a cozy home. Some were on the balcony looking over the snow covered gardens drinking the good Firewhiskey, while others were sitting around the kitchen table debating the skills of the Puddlemere Keeper. The rest were boasting of recent conquests in Draco's study; everyone was having a raucously good time. Draco found himself on his favorite chair tucked into a corner of the room waiting in the wings on the off chance Marcus needed him for anything._

 _There was a lull in the conversation, and a few of his teammates started asking Marcus some rather pointed questions about his new relationship. Feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation, Draco shrunk further into the dark corner._

 _Marcus looked his teammates in the eye, head shaking in disbelief. "Really? Why, are you afraid of the big, bad Death Eater? They all had to sit through trials. The Wizengamot didn't find him guilty of anything. Who are you or I to say they were wrong?"_

 _"Yeah, but come on Marcus, I've heard some of the stuff he did. He tried to kill Dumbledore."_

 _"Yeah, and he didn't do it. Do you know why he was up there that night? You weren't there; don't presume you know what happened because you read some Skeeter article. I choose to spend my days and nights with Draco because I know the man he became, not the boy he was. I love him for the amazing wizard he is."_

 _Draco could have kissed that handsome man senseless right then. But, he waited until the team had all Floo'd home for the night before pouncing on his wizard._

~o0o~

An impatient tapping on the window interrupted his reverie. Reluctantly allowing the familiar brown bundle of energy in, Draco snatched the proffered roll of parchment and tossed an owl treat out the window. Watching as the tiny beast followed his payment, and slamming the window shut once his tail feathers cleared the sill.

Theodore and Millicent Nott were owling him daily, trying to get him out of the house. Thinking it was another attempt to rescue him from himself, he was reluctant to open the note. The need for distraction won out and he tore the scroll open reading the note scribbled in Theo's familiar scrawl. "Drake, We are here if you need us. Marcus is a fool who could never hope to find anyone better than you. ~Nott". Draco crumpled the scrap of lies in his fist and threw it into the ashes left in the bottom of the fireplace.

~o0o~

 _It was well past 2 AM when Draco felt the bed dip next to him. He hadn't spoken to Marcus since breakfast, and had no idea where he'd been the last 4 hours. Feigning sleep, both wizards laid with their backs to each other on the huge bed. How long had it been since Draco fell asleep with Marcus curled around him? Sleep was elusive, as it always was when they were so far apart, and the next morning both wizards woke up in poor moods. Itching for a fight the breakfast table once again became a battlefield. "Where were you last night?" A dejected Draco asked his husband._

 _"I went to Thorfinn and Patty's after the match. I figured you would've already been in bed, so I didn't want to bother you. Plus, it's not as if you'd have come anyway." It stung, but Draco knew it was true. Marcus had stopped asking him to meet up after his matches almost a year ago. It had only been in the last few months that he stopped letting him know where he went._

 _Hurt by the callousness, Draco lashed out at Marcus, "Sorry I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of clueless meatheads. Gods, I wish I could be like you! I wish I hadn't watched my family be tortured at the hands of a mad man. I wish I had been flying broomsticks around empty fields, instead of throwing curses at people I'd had Potions class with for seven years!"_

 _Pushing back from the table Marcus reacted. "Don't blame me for finding a way out! I can't keep paying for not taking part in something you wish you hadn't had to!" Stalking down the hallway and out the front door, Marcus left Draco standing at the kitchen table. Sitting back down at his barely touched meal Draco wondered where Marcus was going, and how long he would stay away this time._

~o0o~

Something inside Draco had been broken a long time ago. In the beginning with Marcus it was as if all the pieces had fallen back into place. They'd always worked so well together, but then life happened. Draco knew he was drinking too much, and after one particularly embarrassing night he spent yelling at every ref in the sky and fan in the crowd, Marcus asked him to stop going to the matches. Then they attended group sessions at St. Mungo's, but stopped after a few months when nothing had changed at home.

Glancing at the clock Draco couldn't believe it was already well past eight; he only needed to make it a few more hours. He just needed to make it to 12:01 to survive the worst day of his life.

~o0o~

 _Draco came home from work that evening and knew immediately something wasn't right. Suddenly, the report he had been working on did not feel that important. Standing in front of the study, he's hit with the smell of barely tethered core magic and a hint of Firewhiskey. Based on what little was left in the bottle of the good stuff, Marcus had been at it a while. He was pacing back and forth in front of the sofa, wavy hair disheveled, and eyes rimmed in red. Draco didn't know if the last was from anger, sadness, or the Firewhiskey; not once during their recent all out rows had he seen Marcus look this bad. His first instinct was to run over and hold the wizard, but restrained himself. Determined to get this over with, he took a deep breath and looked Marcus in the eye as he walked in to the study._

 _"I can't keep going around with this. What happened to the little shit that stood up to me on the pitch during Third Year when I told him he wasn't cut out to be a Seeker? What happened to the man who strolled up to me at Pendulum to tell me in no uncertain terms that I would be going home with him? Or the man who told both our parents to shove their concerns right up their arses when we told them we were getting married?" Draco knew what was coming, as though he had scripted this before Marcus even opened his mouth. Still, he stood there frozen, fear choking him. He didn't know what to say even if he would have been able to. Reliving the same fight they'd been having for the last six months. But this time it felt different. This time it felt final._

 _"It's been ten years since Hogwarts for Salazar's sake. I'm not telling you to get over it Draco, but I can't keep holding you up. You need to do it for yourself. Where is the strong, confident man I fell in love with?" Marcus pulled his hands through his hair. His magic crackled, seeking an outlet. "I've run out of excuses to use when people ask where you are. Frankly, I don't even know myself. Where are you, Draco? You aren't here. In this marriage. In our bed. Damn it, I don't even feel like you are part of this conversation!"_

 _He had to say something, anything, hoping to keep him there. Once he left, Draco was sure Marcus was not coming back. "I… I just. I do love you. There is just, this part of me that was ripped open, and I don't know if it ever really healed. I'm not the only one who's changed. You want to know where I am? I want to know where you go. You go to practice, and your matches, and disappear for hours. Slinking back into bed without explanation. I'm not enough for you, I'm not sure I'll ever be enough for anyone" Frustrated with himself Draco looked down at his hands, twisting the simple platinum band on the fourth finger of his left hand._

 _Taking a deep breath, Marcus pushed through. "I can't stay here while you bleed out. I just can't anymore, Draco. I love you, but I can't be what you need me to be. I am going to stay at Finn's for a while. I can't be here. It hurts too much, to see you giving up." Marcus turned and walked out the door, calmly putting the final nail in the coffin of their marriage. Draco watched him walk out of the house. They had both begged the other to change, but neither could find a way to save what could have been a beautiful life._

~o0o~

Draco didn't know how he was going to live one more day in the house he used to share with him. How he was going to do anything again. He'd already gone through old spell books from Malfoy Manor looking for a way to forget Marcus; until he realized he didn't want to forget Marcus. He wanted to forget the War. He wanted to forget the smell of blood, and what someone's last breath sounded like. To not know the sight of his mother being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse almost to the point of insanity would be welcome. He wanted to forget the acrid taste left in his mouth after casting a particularly potent unforgivable, and how it felt to be hit by a curse, not knowing if it was the one he wouldn't get up from.

This was worse than all of them, though: having had everything in one man, and not being able to hold onto him. The final divorce decree stared up at him from the desktop- yet another reminder of his failure. All Draco wanted to do then was to forget the hole left in his soul. There was only one foolproof way he knew how. He pulled the emergency bottle of Firewhiskey from the bottom drawer, poured two fingers into a tumbler and knocked it back. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.


	2. When the Firewhiskey Stops Working

MC4A

Fill Number: one

Representation(s): Draco facing the consequences of his divorce being final

Bonus Challenge(s):These Boots: The fill features the end of a romantic/sexual relationship.

Word Count: 1553

.o0o. 

"At least you weren't able to drag the family name further through the mud from your own study," Lucius sneered down at his only child. "I suppose, after everything you've put your mother and I through these last few years, breaking down in the privacy of your own home was the least you could have done."

When Draco opened his eyes the morning after his divorce from Marcus Flint became official, he was greeted by his father's condescending voice ringing in his ears—while a pair of perfectly polished wingtips greeted his blurry eyes. Laying with his head hanging off the leather sofa in his study, the groan he was unsuccessful in holding in was countered by his father's derisive snort. Assuming the snort was because of the condition Draco currently found himself in, he made an effort to right himself and look his father in the eye, like a good pureblood does. As Draco pushed himself up, his hand slid off the sofa and he ended up face down on the floor.

The blonde patriarch snorted at his prone son, "I'd watch out for the glass, if I were you."

Lucius picked his way through Draco's study, the sneer on his face unwavering. He had to step over more than a few broken tumblers on his way to the desk. It seemed any room Lucius entered, he found himself drawn to the seat of power behind the desk.

"Where is that elf of yours? I will never understand why you felt the need to free the wretched thing. Why keep it around if it can't even clean up from a night of—" Lucius trailed off as he spotted a broken picture frame. The photo was of his son throwing his arms around a hulking man in a Quidditch kit, both were grinning at each other and came away from the embrace right as 'World Champs' flashed across the top, "—reminiscing?"

Brushing his hands off on his trousers, not concerning himself with the streaks of blood that were left behind due to the glass that was now embedded in his hands—thanks to falling on the broken glass that littered the study floor—Draco made his way to the guest chair in front of his own desk. He struggled to put on the airs of a young man who had his life together. This was an even more difficult task than normal, considering he woke up in the trousers and undershirt from the day before. Sitting across from his father and noticing a speck of soot on his shoulder, he suddenly had a memory of burning the rest of his clothes in the fireplace at some point the night before. The empty bottle of Firewhiskey laying on the desk completed the pair—he eyed the first under the sofa as he was getting up.

"I've requested my elf, whom I freed on my own accord, leave this room alone. Except for weekly polishing and dusting, that is." Draco made an attempt to look his father in the eye, but all he wanted to do was crawl back over the broken glass and curl up on his sofa, in his sanctuary, and never leave.

"If you would like, I could have your mother send one of our elves over to show your Nelly how to do a proper 'polish and dusting.' I don't think you have been explaining it correctly." Lucius stared, his icy eyes boring into the top of his son's head.

"It is Nettie, and I don't have any issues instructing my elf. I just—"

"You just, what, Draco? Decided to throw yourself a pity party last night? Clean this place up, and respond to your mother's owl when she sends it this afternoon. She is giving you an appropriate amount of time to mourn your farce of a marriage in private. After which, she intends to begin working to find you a suitable replacement." Lucius barely took a breath, and when finished, he pushed himself back from the desk. "I expect this Nettie knows how to iron a shirt? You will be expected to at least dorn one of those at tea."

Unsheathing his wand, Lucius made quick work of clearing himself a path back to the fireplace. Without looking behind him, he grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from the the mantle and with a swirl of green flames, disappeared from the room.

"Arrrgggggg," Draco yelled as the flames receded. Picking up the empty bottle from the desktop, the closest thing at hand, he threw it into the fireplace. The explosion of glass felt cathartic for a moment. The feeling ended the moment the shards stopped tinkeling across the floor. Walking around to the seat his father had just vacated, Draco dropped into the leather chair and pulled the last bottle of Firewhiskey from the bottom drawer.

"Here's hoping today won't be any worse than yesterday." Draco toasted himself and began the arduous task of getting blind drunk before lunch.

.o0o.

It had been a week since the divorce papers were filed with the Ministry and Draco hadn't left the confines of his house once. He locked out the Floo after his father's impromptu visit that first morning, and he redirected his owls to the office after his mother's second unanswered request for tea. Millicent Nott, his chief of staff at Malfoy Corporation, was instructed to respond to all requests on his behalf until further notice. She also notified his parents that he had left the country for the remainder of September. He had planned on owling them once he worked up the courage to deal with their inevitable replies, but he hadn't gotten there yet.

It had been a week since the divorce was final, but almost six months since Marcus Flint left Draco. The last week had been the worst of any he could remember. The first few moments right as he woke up were the highlights of his days. It took him no time at all for everything to come crashing down on him again. Until he remembered why he didn't wake up in his own bed.

This morning was no different. Forgetting how much he drank the previous night, his entire body revolted against the invasion of senses: the smell from his late night snack of a roast beef sandwich, and the light pouring through the heavy velvet drapery that were not closed.

"Nettie," Draco croaked. With a sharp crack the tiny house elf Apparated into the spare bedroom Draco must have stumbled into the night before.

"Yes, Draco, sir. What is Master needing?" Through his fringe, Draco watched as the diminutive creature who ran his household straightened up from the deep bow she felt obliged to enact when in his presence. Flicking invisible lint from the crisp white apron she donned every morning over her starched black tunic she stood, waiting for direction.

"I need you to take this revolting plate of food to the kitchen, and to shut the blasted drapes. My eyes feel as though they are going to begin bleeding at any moment. I thought I asked you to keep all drapery shut until further notice?" He had a full head of steam going as he sat up in the bed. Instantly he regretted that decision as the world started to spin and loose focus.

"Yes, Master Draco did ask Nettie to keep all drapery shut. However, um—"

"Nettie, please, just spit it out. What is it? Are my parents here? I told you not to let them in." He was trying desperately to ignore the smell of the food, and would do just about anything at that point to close his eyes and go back to the dreamless sleep he had been in.

"No, Master Draco, it is not your parents," the elf kept her eyes pointed directly above Draco, fixed on a point in the headboard above his head. "It is, just, are you going to stay in here today? Should I bring your coffee here? Or will you going down to the study for your, um, recent breakfast preference?"

Letting out a huff, Draco pulled the comforter away and made to walk to his bathroom once he had his bearings and knew which way to head towards the en-suite. As he passed by the little elf who was patiently awaiting his answer he did something he he hadn't planned. He made a decision. Today, he was going to try and start the day with coffee, instead of Firewhiskey.

"Nettie, I will be in this bath. I need you to bring me some clothes, and my shaving things." Draco made a decision. One victory at a time wasn't going to cut it. Today, he'll aim for two. A breakfast that doesn't include Firewhiskey, and a shower. It had been too long since he was able to stand the sight of himself. He still wasn't ready to sleep on their bed, but he was ready to take a shower and try to move forward. Sometimes a simple shower can be a personal triumph. Add in some coffee, and that he may deserve a cookie for his efforts.

Draco pretended to not notice the small grin that spread across Nettie's face at the mention of a shower. He may also ask her to burn the sheets.

.o0o.

Ravenclaw

Writing Club

Character Appreciation- 8. (Trait) Dramatic

Disney- C5 (Te Fiti) alt Write about heartbreak

Book Club - Big Mav: (relationship) father and child, (emotion) disappointment, (genre) hurt/comfort

Ami's Audio - 13 The Suffering Game - (genre) Hurt/Comfort

Los lowdown C4 - Jessica Jones: write about an alcoholic

Bex - 3 - The Incredible Hulk - Write about someone with anger management problems.

Season Challenge

Days of the Year - October 19th 2018 - Evaluate Your Life Day: Write about someone making a big change in their life. Alt, write about someone dissatisfied with their life, but not knowing how to change it.

Dessert Challenge - Toppings - MMs: (theme) Pining


End file.
